Disclaimer: Wish I owned it. Don't. So I just sit here, a geeky fanfic writer, taking out my anger at this fact by pounding on the keyboard.

A/N: Thanks for those who reviewed my story last time. I'll keep this author's note short since my friend here keeps banging her head on the desk in an apparent attempt to kill off enough gray matter to knock herself unconscious or mentally retarded. Not that she needs any help with that sort of thing. Of course, she's really only allowing the control freak side of her personality to become all too apparent, so, like I said, I'll keep this short. Oh, wait. Too late. Oh, well. . . .

It had been a five years since that night, though Cambri still dreamed about it sometimes. Upon waking, however, it seemed that there were always gaps in the conversation, gaps that matched the ones in her memory. But no matter. She had better things to do than to dwell on half-memories and dreams.

With a quiet groan, Cambri jumped out of bed, landing purposefully on the hard, freezing cold stone floor instead of the floor rug so she would wake up more quickly, and then dared look at her watch. Six a.m. Just wonderful. She was late.

It's not as though I don't have an excuse, Cambri thought bitterly as she threw on a shirt over the camisole she slept in. It's just that stupid duel with Malfoy took me nearly an hour to finish, and then I had work to do, so I didn't get to bed until one!

Even inside her head the words sounded stupid. Whiny.

Lord Voldemort didn't want excuses, he wanted results. So she would give them to him. But first, she should probably put some pants on.

Cambri threw on a pair of old jeans, then pulled her black robe on over her clothes. This was why she didn't pay attention to what she wore. She was just going to have to wear the black over it.

Sighing, she brushed her teeth, pulled back her long, curly black hair, and finally made it down to breakfast by six thirty.

"Took you long enough," Bellatrix commented, reading the newspaper.

"You in there?" Cambri asked, ignoring that comment, and opening the pantry to see what she could find to eat.

"Mentioned once or twice. No pictures though," Bella answered distractedly.

"Pity," Cambri said, emerging triumphantly from the pantry with a muffin. "How's Malfoy?"

Bella put down the paper, grinning. "We still can't wake him up, you know," she said. "What did you do?"

Cambri smiled thinly as well. She didn't smile often; things like that mostly got her into trouble, but this was something to be proud of. In five short years she had gone from knowing almost no magic, to being so good that the only one who could beat her in a duel was Lord Voldemort himself. Then she checked her watch.

"Damn," she said mildly, stuffing the muffin in her mouth and chewing vigorously. Bella watched her with an amused look on her face.

"Need to be somewhere, Terrangs?" she asked.

"You know I do," Cambri said thickly, keeping her same mild expression. She had learned over the years that if you could control your emotions, you had it made. Whatever that meant. She swallowed the muffin and headed out the door, stopping only when she remembered Malfoy. "Oh, try the Exsuscito spell."

"Why are all your spells in Latin?" Bella called after her, irritated.

"Because if spells are in the base language, they tend to be more powerful," Cambri called back, her voice growing fainter as she turned corners to reach her destination.

"Whatever that means," Bella muttered, shrugging and turning back to the paper.

Cambri's destination was what the death eaters jokingly referred to as the Throne Room. It was where Voldemort stayed when he was there. She entered, nearly fifteen minutes late, and hurried to the center of the room, where she knelt.

"You're late, Cambri," said Voldemort, not turning from the window he was gazing out of.

"Yes, Master," Cambri said. "I apologize."

"Why?" he asked, turning to look at her.

Cambri lowered her head to examine the rough stone she was kneeling on. "You don't want to hear excuses, Master, so I won't bore you. It will not happen again."

"It had better not," he said, his voice cold. There was a pause while Cambri thought that this minor infraction really wasn't enough to warrant a punishment. She was right, thankfully, and after another moment, Voldemort spoke again, his voice less harsh, although no less chilling. "You may rise."

"Thank you, Master," Cambri said automatically, getting to her feet and meeting his eyes.

"Now, I have called you here to discuss my plans for Harry Potter near the end of this year." Cambri nodded, and he continued, laying out the plan. It was simple, but ingenious all the same. Most of his plans were.

"Do you understand?" He had finished explaining.

"Yes, Master."

"You know that this will be a great personal risk for yourself, don't you?" he asked her, examining her critically.

Cambri didn't dare say what she was thinking, which was that she really doubted it, but nodded instead. "I understand, Master."

"Then you realize what you have to do?"

"Perfectly," Cambri said, and she did.